


Gunshot

by sherlock_is_actually_a_girls_name



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock_is_actually_a_girls_name/pseuds/sherlock_is_actually_a_girls_name
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 35
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGracefulBlueCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGracefulBlueCat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [[Art] Field Medicine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27165944) by [TheGracefulBlueCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGracefulBlueCat/pseuds/TheGracefulBlueCat). 



Sherlock's legs weren't going to tire. He had incredible stamina and he could run for another hour at the same speed he was going right now. Hans on the other hand; he was not at all athletic. Sherlock rolled his eyes internally at his pathetic attempts at escape. At least he could have been a smarter criminal. Now he was leading them straight to his fellow terrorists' hideout. 

The gunshot was sudden and for a moment Sherlock stopped; blinking in confusion. The next thing he knew, he went smack against the pavement, but the bullet hadn't hit him. He got up and looked around, panic rising in his belly. John lay in the corner of the alleyway, cradling his side, which was bleeding so much. Too much. OH GOD JOHN SHOULDN'T BE BLEEDING. 

Sherlock got to his knees, his brain whirring at breakneck speed. From the angle of the shot and the velocity of the bullet, he knew the bullet had to have barely brushed past John's left kidney. He knew he had to get an ambulance. Now.

He took off his bellstaff and pressed it against the wound, fishing out his phone, he dialed Barts with trembling fingers. A kindly voice at the other end of the line answered him after he had yelled details of their location to the person. The only thing that registered were the words, " Curfew", "extremely sorry" , "can't get an ambulance" and "try our best"

Sherlock screamed in frustration and threw the phone across the alleyway. Mycroft was abroad, the city was being bombed in numerous places at once and there was no way they were going to get an ambulance or a doctor in time. 

John. John was going to die here, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

Tears stung his eyes. He stared at John; the growing pool of blood around him. John's skin was getting paler by the second.

He pressed the bellstaff against John's wound harder. John groaned and caught his wrist. 

Only then did he realize he had been muttering under his breath to John.  
"S-Sherlock. S-Sherl, listen to me. Shut up and listen to me." John said. Sherlock couldn't help but obey.  
"You're not saying good bye. I'm not going to let you die. I'm not-" 

"Hhh, no. There's about another 20 minutes before that happens. J-just, Mike. Mike S-Stamford lives two houses away. We can use h-his family's lab." 

Sherlock face palmed mentally at that. HOW COULD HE HAVE FORGOTTEN.  
He slipped his hand under John's neck and knees and lifted him, mindful of the wound. 

Mike agreed to let Sherlock use his family's laboratory, quickly clearing away equipment so that John could be laid on the table in the middle of the room. He fetched medical equipment, but his hands were shaking. Sherlock wasn't much better off, but he knew he couldn't let Mike do the surgery.  
"John. I'm not sure I can do this."  
"You can. We can't go to A&E, y-you know that."  
"But..."  
"Go ahead. I trust you, S-Sherlock. I'll tell you how to do it." 

All it took, was one look into John's eyes. Sherlock couldn't back out now. He had to do this. He took a deep breath and picked up the scalpel.


	2. Recovery and idiocy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has either made a terrible mistake or done the best thing he can possibly do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As y'all know, I didn't initially plan on continuing this fic, but then I received an anon prompt request on tumblr and it fit this fic so perfectly, I had to write it. Here you go. Enjoy!

Sherlock took John's limp hand in both of his own. The tears he had held back for so long while taking out the bullet now burned at the back of his throat.   
Now that the adrenaline was gone, all that remained was pain. Sherlock never understood how emotional pain worked. He didn't understand how love worked. He was a self proclaimed sociopath; but right now, right here, he understood. He finally understood. Because as he looked at the man lying before him, he realized that there was absolutely nothing he wouldn't do to keep John safe.  
That's when the reality of his situation came crashing down on him. He might as well have killed John. He had followed John's instructions to the letter, but he didn't know if it was enough; if he had been in time. Had he lost too much blood already? Would he ever wake up?  
The dam broke. Sherlock sobbed into his sleeve and bit his arm to prevent himself from screaming out loud.  
The tears didn't stop, and neither did the pain.   
Sherlock lost track of how much time he spent staring at John and sobbing into his sleeve. After what felt like years, the physical and emotional exhaustion took over and he fell asleep with his cheek pressed to John's palm.

The light streaming through the curtains woke Sherlock. He groaned and tried to work the crik out of his neck. His nose and throat were both blocked from the crying. He ignored them and sipped some water.  
Once he was marginally more comfortable, he sat back on the stool and continued to watch John's chest as it rose and fell.   
"I love you John." He blurted.  
John's hand twitched. Sherlock sprung to his feet, glancing at the heart monitor Mike had arranged for.  
It had suddenly started to beep faster than normal. Had John heard that? Was he not passed out?   
He rushed off to bring more water for John. When he returned, John was trying to SIT UP.  
"John!"   
He stopped trying and just laid back, staring at Sherlock. "What?" His voice was weak, but steady and he was no longer stuttering because of the pain.  
Sherlock wanted to ask John if he had heard his confession, he wanted to ask if he felt the same way. There were so many questions on the tip of his tongue…. But all that he said was, "Would you like some water?"  
John just shook his head and continued staring at Sherlock. That answered it then. John had probably heard the confession but he didn't feel the same way, hence the reluctance to bring it up.   
Right.  
This also meant that Sherlock would no longer be needed at Baker Street because knowing John, he would be too uncomfortable sharing a flat with someone who had unrequited feelings for him. Sherlock and John both spoke at the same time, "So, uh, I'll pack my bags then." "Was that real?"   
"What?" John asked.  
"Yes, John. It was real and it is obvious that my affections for you are unrequited at best and disgusting at worst. I will need to relocate soon."  
"You will be doing no such thing."  
Sherlock stared in surprise as John took his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. "I wasn't sure if your confession was real or if I had hallucinated it. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable so I didn't bring it up. But there is no chance I'm going to let you move out now. I love you, you idiot. How dare you think otherwise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos and keyboard slams are welcome and highly appreciated because who doesn't love a lil validation :)


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